One Night
by Panda3
Summary: Harry learns a lesson.
1. What He Wants

This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. I **adore** Harry Potter though and have read countless fanfics over time. I decided to write one of my own. I hope you enjoy it.   
  
The next chapter (already written...in fact the next three chapters are already written) will be posted Friday evening.   
  
By the way, I do not own Harry Potter (Ramen noodles wouldn't be my staple diet if I did!) so please do not try to sue me. You'll only dissapoint yourself when you find out you've won the contents of my currently in the negative checking account. *G*   
  
Please let me know what you think!   
  
  
  


**One Night**

**Chapter 1**

**What He Wants**

  
  
  
  
  
Harry woke with a start, jerking into a sitting position and gasping for breath. For a moment, he sat very still. He held his breath and tried to listen past the pounding of blood in his ears. Finally, he relaxed a bit and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Obviously he hadn't screamed this time. His aunt and uncle were still asleep. This realization allowed him to relax enough that the terror and horror of the nightmare had a chance to catch up with him. He began shaking and lowered his head into his hands, fighting the need to cry.   
  
_*Kill the spare.*   
  
*No! Please!*   
  
*Leave them alone!*   
  
*Mommy!*_   
  
His dreams were different each time he slept, but they were also horribly the same. They always started with Cedric's death and Voldemort's return, and they always turned into him watching helplessly while Voldemort and his Death Eaters tortured and killed people. Families. Children.   
  
This time it had been a young woman...a single mother...and her two small children. The older of the two had only been six. Six. And the things that had been done to the small family. The horrible things.   
  
Harry didn't know if his dreams were real. If the people who'd lived and died in these nightmares did so outside of them. He rather thought they did...because of the dull ache in his scar. Not pain really, just an ache. Like an overworked muscle or a deep bruise. Something far away that hinted of things to fear. Yes, Harry reckoned the dreams were real...and it tore him up inside.   
  
It was his fault after all. His fault Voldemort was back. Every single death, every pain inflicted by that monster was ultimately his responsibility. His. Because he was Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The-Boy-Who-Let-Voldemort-Return. It was, after all, his blood that had completed the ceremony. If he'd been a little smarter, a little faster, then things would have been different. He'd known that his being in the Tri-Wizard Tournament wasn't an accident. He'd known. He'd only assumed, foolishly, that he was the only one in danger. He hadn't realized that, like always, he himself was the danger. That because Voldemort needed him, anyone around him was at risk. That the trap set for him could easily have caught anyone. He'd foolishly insisted that Cedric take the prize with him. Worse, and this really made Harry ill, he'd actually tried to get the boy to take it for himself!   
  
Cedric was only the first of many to die because of his stupidity at that moment. If his dreams were an accurate accounting, nearly a dozen entire families had perished in the short time since summer had started. Entire families...just wiped out. Tortured to death by a monster he'd unleashed unto the world.   
  
Despite his best efforts, a sob broke through. He thought about each of those people and he wept. He didn't only cry for them though...he also cried for all the people who might die. Who probably would before it was over. He cried for the fact that he lived in terror of seeing familiar faces in his nightmares. As bad as it was to watch strangers die...the horror of the thought that the next time it could be Hermione or Ron...even with his pure blood...or anyone he knew struck him fresh after each nightmare. He knew it was selfish...feeling worse about the possibility losing his friends than the reality of losing strangers. He knew it just proved his aunt right when she called him a 'horrible selfish boy'. He just couldn't help it. When his mind's eye put his friends' faces on the people he'd watched die, and it always did, he wanted to die too. Because it could very well happen. One night he might just be forced to watch helplessly as the first and best friends he'd ever had died horrible deaths because of him.   
  
After a while, Harry got control of himself. He slowly stopped crying and eventually his breathing began to settle down. He wiped his tears away with the edge of his night shirt and he lay back down. He wasn't sure what time it was, but since it was obviously still night-time, he thought he'd better at least try to get back to sleep or he'd be too tired to finish his chores the next day and that would be very bad. So Harry lay as still as possible and tried to still the fears that darted through his mind. He'd never had two such nightmares in one night before, but as his traitorous mind whispered, there was a first time for everything.   
  
An unknown amount of time later, he finally did begin to drift off, exhausted from the emotional traumas of the evening. It was nearly four in the morning and he would only get a few more hours of sleep, but he needed all he could get. The nightmares that plagued him in addition to the ever present, nearly soul crunching guilt he carried and the treatment of his 'family' were slowly but surely breaking him down. He couldn't take much more.   
  
As the Boy-Who-Lived drifted to sleep, the last coherent thought to flit through his mind was 'Everyone would be so much better off if I'd never been born.'   
  
In the dark shadows of the room, unseen even in waking light, several figures stood. They had been watching...and they had been listening.   
  
"This can not continue." one said.   
  
"I quite agree." replied another crossly.   
  
"What should we do?" another asked.   
  
"We need to snap him out of it. He's no use to anyone like this." yet another commented.   
  
"Yes, but how?" still another asked.   
  
"We'll give him what he wants," the first answered.   
  
There was a long pause as all of them considered this course of action.   
  
"Do you think that will work?" asked the only one of the figures who hadn't already spoken.   
  
"I hope so...for everyone's sake." the first replied quietly before breaking away from the group and drifting silently to Harry's bedside. The shadowy figure paused there a moment and watched the sleeping boy. The slow and steady rise and fall of his chest. The nearly peaceful expression on his pale, thin face. The boy looked much younger than his years anyway, but especially in moments like these, when he slept. When the pain and loneliness and the fear and guilt of his waking hours left him and he became again simply a child.   
  
Reaching out slowly, the figure rested a transparent hand on Harry's head, sighing as the boy shivered in his sleep as if from some unknown cold chill. "You were never born Harry Potter."   
  
  
  
_To Be Continued..._


	2. What's Going On?

Hello there.   
  
The overwhelming lack of response (not a single review) to my first chapter almost made me scrap this story all together. But then I thought...why? I like the story. So what if no one else does.   
  
So I'm posting all of the chapters I have written so far. I'm in the middle of writting the next one and it'll be up soon.   
  
If you like what you read, please let me know...cause even with what I said above, I do like encouragement. *G*   
  
Hey...even if you _don't_ like it, let me know. And why. I'm flame proof...but apparently not ignore proof. *G*   
  
Thanks! and enjoy!   
  
I do not own Harry Potter. This story is just for fun. Suing me will get you nothing but wasted time and an over-priced lawyer bill.   
  
  
  


One Night

Chapter 2

What's Going On?

  
  
  
  
  
Harry drifted awake slowly, with the ease of someone who's slept himself out and had all the time in the world to open his eyes. It was not a sensation Harry was familiar with. Not even when he was at school was he really ever able to sleep very late, even on the weekends. Someone was always waking him up to go to breakfast or Quidditch practice or to investigate something or another. His half awake mind reveled in the rare, lazy joy of waking up on its own.   
  
The first thing he really became aware of was that for some reason...that he honestly couldn't imagine...he was on the floor. Now, it wasn't too unusual for him to wind up on the floor in the night. His nightmares were often enough to make him fall out of the bed. Of course it usually woke him up...and when it didn't it certainly woke his aunt and uncle who in turn did wake him up. Most unpleasantly.   
  
While he puzzled over why he was asleep on the floor, Harry slowly became aware of another fact. It was bright in his room. Very bright. At least noon bright. With that realization, the boy bolted up with a gasp, ready to rush downstairs in a panic. Only he froze when he caught sight of his room.   
  
It was empty.   
  
Completely empty.   
  
There was no bed. No desk. No old junk cluttering the floor and corners. There was nothing. Nothing but dust. It almost looked like the room hadn't been used in years. Hedwig's cage was even gone. Harry turned in a full circle three times trying to process what he was seeing. And he was failing miserably.   
  
His aunt and uncle couldn't have done it...there's just no way he would have slept through every single item in his room being moved. Especially Hedwig. She would have made so much noise... But where was she? Then a thought occurred to him that made him groan and he fell to his knees to pry up the loose floorboard where he'd stashed his most precious possessions. His father's cloak. His photo album. The letters from his friends and godfather. Things he didn't want to...couldn't stand to...spend the entire summer without. Where they still there? Harry let out a cry of despair when he got the piece of wood up and found the space as empty as his room was.   
  
Gone.   
  
It was all gone.   
  
For a moment, Harry couldn't do anything but stare in disbelief at the empty hole in the floor. There was no way. No possible way that anyone could have taken those things without him knowing. He was such a light sleeper these days...and the hide-away was under his bed! Which meant that if someone had taken his belongings, they would have had to have done it after they removed the bed.   
  
But how?   
  
And who?   
  
The only way it could have been done was to keep him asleep with a spell...but who would do that? Who would spell him only to take his stuff...the only wizards he knew of who would do such a thing would kill him if they could cast a spell at him. Not keep him asleep so they could steal his stuff. It was ridiculous.   
  
Unless it was some wild prank. Maybe the Weasley twins? No. Harry shook his head. That didn't make any sense. Fred and George loved a good practical joke...but Harry didn't think they'd go this far. Besides...he was in much worse shape now than he'd been when they and Ron had 'rescued' him the summer before second year...and he'd like to think they'd be more concerned than to play a rather mean prank like this. So that ruled out the Weasleys. But who in the world did that leave?   
  
Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, and find out just where exactly his belongings had vanished to, Harry stood up and went to the door. He pounded on it, knowing it would still be locked, and yelled, "Uncle Vernon...Aunt Petunia...Dudley? Anyone out there?"   
  
After a few minutes of this though, he stopped, his hand was getting sore and he had a suspicious feeling that there really wasn't anyone out there. The horrifying thought occurred to him that maybe they did take his stuff. Maybe they did...and then moved out...and left him here...locked in this room...defenseless...   
  
Harry panicked. He began pounding on the door again desperately, screaming for anyone to let him out. He almost felt like the walls of the room were closing in on him...getting closer and closer...and was it getting dimmer? It was! It was almost like being in that damn cupboard again... Harry grabbed hopelessly at the door handle, crying now in near hysterical fear...   
  
And the door opened.   
  
It opened like it had never been locked at all. In fact...all the padlocks and door chains where gone. And as Harry, stunned to silence by this spectacular event, examined the door, he realized with still further shock that the cat door through which he was usually fed...was gone. Like it had never been.   
  
Harry felt his knees go all watery and sat down. Just what the hell was going on here?   
  
  
  
  
_To Be Continued..._


	3. No One Around

I do not own Harry Potter. This story is just for fun. Suing me will get you nothing but wasted time and an over-priced lawyer bill.   
  
  
  
  


One Night

Chapter 3

No One Around

  
  
  
  
  
It took Harry a long while to search the entire house. It was nearly dusk when he finally stumbled, disbelievingly, out the front door...which had been locked from the outside...and sat on the front porch. The entire house was empty. Not just empty...vacant. Unlived in. If Harry had to guess, he'd say that it had been years since anyone had even set foot in the place. How this could be, the boy didn't know...he didn't know anything anymore.   
  
All he did know was that he was alone, in his nightclothes, in an empty house...he didn't even have a change of clothes! He did have his wand. Thank goodness for small miracles. He'd taken to sleeping with it because he didn't want to be caught unprepared if somehow Voldemort and his Death Eaters made their way past the wards and tried to kill him. He didn't want to die like that. He wanted to go down fighting...like his father. So he'd sewn a pocket for it into the inside front of his nightshirt...his aunt never noticed...because of course Harry did the laundry.   
  
The boy patted his chest and felt the comforting lump that was his wand and smiled. Of course, thinking about the way he'd freaked out upstairs when he'd thought he was trapped in his room made him blush brightly. Especially since he'd had the wand the whole time and though magic was illegal for underage wizards to do away from school, Harry was fairly certain that he'd be forgiven for letting himself out of his room using it. Despite the circumstances, a large part of him was extremely glad that no one had been around to witness his breakdown.   
  
Harry wondered just what exactly he was going to do now. He was sure that the situation warranted the judicious use of magic...but what exactly should he do. He needed to find someway to get in touch with Professor Dumbledore. But how? There was a fireplace inside...and he could conjure a fire for it easily enough, though he'd never be as good at that as Hermione. The only problem was that he didn't have any floo powder...and he didn't know how to conjure that. Even if he had any desire to use one, he didn't know how to make a portkey...and besides, that would only get him to Hogsmead. And he had no desire to show up in the middle of a Wizarding village in his nightclothes.   
  
He supposed he could call the Knight Bus. Except he didn't have any money at all on him. Harry rather thought that Professor Dumbledore would be willing to loan him the sickles when he arrived...he only hoped that Stan the driver would accept that and let him on. It was the only real option though...he needed to tell the Headmaster what had happened.   
  
That decided, Harry stood up and began walking hurriedly toward where he'd been standing the time he'd accidentally called the Knight Bus. He felt rather silly walking down the street, in this perfectly normal neighborhood, wearing nothing but his nightclothes...and the thought of what would happen to him if his aunt and uncle found out made him shiver...but no one was out to see him.   
  
In fact....no one was out at all. Harry slowed his pace as the realization dawned on him. There was no one there. He stopped and examined the house he was standing in front of. He knew for a fact that an elderly couple lived there with their grown up son....but now the house was empty. He could tell it was empty because the grass was long and dead in places and the paint was peeling off the door. The driveway was strewn with dead leaves and dirt and there were no curtains on the windows. All this was so very different from the last time, only a couple of days ago, that he'd seen this house...that it was shocking. Sure...he'd only seen the house in passing...but such changes were obvious.   
  
It led him to realize that the entire neighborhood was like that. There wasn't a person in any of the houses he'd passed...or, it looked like, in any of the houses he hadn't come upon yet. Harry was beginning to feel really afraid. Where was everyone??   
  
Crazy thoughts began flitting though his head. His aunt and uncle weren't especially religious...they just attended church regularly enough to keep up appearances...and they certainly didn't want him to go to church and embarrass them. But he was pretty sure he knew the basics of Christianity...including the part about the way the world was supposed to end according to the Bible. He stood for a minute trying to remember what it was called...the part where everyone was carried up to heaven leaving behind all the evil-doers and sinners and such on earth to be tortured by demons and such. He couldn't remember, but a part of his mind wondered hysterically if this was it. If his aunt had been right when she told him that he was 'a vile, evil boy' and that this was his punishment. He'd certainly caused enough harm in his life to qualify for punishment...but this?   
  
Or what if the entire neighborhood had been overtaken by Death Eaters? What if some kind of attack on him had backfired and resulted in the disappearance of everybody in his neighborhood? What if they were all dead...or trapped somewhere that was even worse? What if they were being tortured like the people in his nightmares even now...   
  
Then Harry shook his head, annoyed with himself. He was letting himself panic and letting his imagination run away again. He just needed to get to Professor Dumbledore and he would explain everything. There had to be an explanation for this. There just had to be. Nothing happened for no reason...even in the magical world.   
  
So Harry made himself continue to where he was sure he could call the Bus as he wasn't sure how far the wards Dumbledore had told him about extended, or even if the Bus was affected by them. Feeling it was best to be sure he made his way to the curb he remembered. He pulled his wand out of its hidden pocket and held it out, waiting for the familiar BANG. It took a while...and Harry was beginning to think that it wasn't coming. But then the familiar sound rang out and he took a step back as the Knight Bus pulled up along side him.   
  
The doors opened and a woman Harry had never seen before in his life peered down at him from the driver's seat. "Just what the hell are you doing in Surrey boy?" she demanded sharply. Her eyes traveled up and down him, taking in his bedraggled appearance and she snapped, "Well? Gonna stand there all day? Get in! Get in!"   
  
  
  
  
_To Be Continued..._


	4. What Are You Doing?

I do not own Harry Potter. This story is just for fun. Suing me will get you nothing but wasted time and an over-priced lawyer bill.   
  
  
  
  


One Night

Chapter 4

What Are You Doing?

  
  
  
  
  
Harry sat in his seat toward the back of the Bus and stared blankly at the back of the seat in front of him...a feeling of unrealness firmly entrenched in him. Nothing was right. Not even the Knight Bus! For one thing...seats! The Knight Bus didn't have seats. At least the last time he rode it didn't. It had beds. But here he was...sitting in a seat. That wasn't all either. Harry's befuddled mind thought back to the conversation he'd had with the driver after boarding the Bus.   
  
_"I don't have any money on me right now...but the Headmaster can pay you when we get to Hogwarts..." Harry tried to explain as he climbed up the steps.   
  
"What are you on about?" the woman asked, staring at him like he'd grown a second head.   
  
"The fee? Seven sickles?" he replied, his expression and tone showing just how confused he was. He'd caught sight of the interior of the Bus and was shocked. Was there some mistake...had he called the wrong Bus? "This is the Knight Bus right?"   
  
"Of course it is...but we haven't charged for years. Is this the first time you've ridden? I don't think I've ever seen you before...and I've been the driver forever just about." The woman's look changed from annoyed to curious.   
  
"No I've ridden before...summer before last. But...there was a different driver. A man named..."   
  
The driver interrupted him there, "No sonny...I think you must be mistaken. I've been the driver of the Knight Bus for years. There's no one else."   
  
"But...you're sure?" Harry asked quietly, his mind whirling with all the questions he had. He needed to speak with Professor Dumbledore. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.   
  
"Quite sure. Now, where are you wanting to go? I do have other stops to make."   
  
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry please." Harry muttered distractedly.   
  
"Right. Have a seat and buckle up...the ride's a bit bumpy and we have several stops along the way."_   
  
Harry was jolted out of his reminiscing by the driver, who's name Harry hadn't ever asked and didn't really feel like finding out now, calling out his stop. He looked out the window and sure enough the castle of Hogwarts loomed in the distance.   
  
"This is as close as I can let you out sonny. There are too many wards up around that place." The driver told him as he descended the steps to leave the Bus. When he stepped out, Harry turned to thank the woman but she'd already closed the doors and was pulling away.   
  
He shrugged and returned his attention to the school in the distance. It wasn't really too far...but he didn't have any shoes on. Plus it was getting fairly dark out as twilight slipped away. The Bus trip, though jerky and loud and just generally grating...hadn't taken very much time at all. Twilight had just started when he'd boarded and now it was just becoming truly dark out. Another reason he didn't fancy trudging the distance...but he had no choice. He needed answers...and possibly the only person who could give them to him was in that school.   
  
So Harry began to walk. He went quickly once he realized that the grass was really quite soft and there was nothing hidden in it that would hurt his feet. Luckily, the weather was warm...though it was still early in the summer so a bit of a chill was in the night air. He was moving quickly enough though that it didn't bother him. After weeks of being locked in his room or only being allowed out to work in or around the house, it actually felt good to be so active...even if he was bruised, sore and more than a little hungry. He would have plenty to eat when he got to the school though, he knew, and the thought made him walk faster.   
  
Eventually he arrived at the main entrance and with a sigh of relief, he pushed open the doors. Or rather he tried to push open the doors. They didn't budge. Harry blinked a moment in disbelief as he stared at the locked doors. Why were the door locked? Never once could Harry remember a time that the doors to the school had been locked. Of course...he'd never been here in the summer. Maybe the front doors were kept locked at night during the summer? He didn't know. And so many things had just been wrong since he'd woken up...that he wondered with a bit of panic if maybe something was wrong with Hogwarts too.   
  
But no.   
  
That wasn't possible. Nothing could be wrong with Hogwarts. It was the one place that nothing could ever be wrong. The Bus driver had even said that all the wards were up...so surely everything else was the same too? Yes...it was just that the place was different in the summer. Maybe it was locked because most of the teachers were gone and all the students and for safety and security only a few doors were kept unlocked. Yes...that had to be it.   
  
Harry didn't know which doors those would be so he stood for a moment, not sure what to do. He needed to get into the school...but he wasn't sure if anyone would hear him knocking...and he didn't want to go from door to door trying them all...   
  
He was jolted out of his thoughts by the door in front of him swinging open rather abruptly. Standing in the doorway was a very irritated looking Professor Snape. Harry had never been so glad to see the surly Potions Master before. But before he could open his mouth to say so, or anything for that matter, Snape snarled, ÒWhat are you _doing out here_?Ó   
  
  
  
  
_To Be Continued..._


End file.
